Wine and Spirits
by KarToon12
Summary: Nearly everyone at Jurassic World has accepted that the park carries its own form of ghosts from the past...but Owen is the only one who has actually SEEN a ghost first hand...and regularly talks to them.


**Note before diving into this: this was written back when "Jurassic World" came out. I found this old file on my computer and decided to finally post it, now that "Fallen Kingdom" has released. This takes place directly before the events of the first JW film. Full details on the original character featured in this will be in the notes at the end.**

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Owen checked his watch-five to seven.

One of the operators of the raptor enclosure-some new guy named Steven-was talking his ear off; following him all the way back to his caravan and hanging around for two extra hours past his shift; triple checking all the schematics on the new door locks and security cameras in the pen. Owen applauded the guy's work ethic, but there was only so many times he and everyone else could go over it and deem it safe.

After a tiring day of going through the motions with the raptors and appeasing Mr. Brown Nose here, Owen was ready to call it a night and relax.

He unfolded two beach chairs; setting an old wooden crate in between them to use as a makeshift coffee table. Disappearing into his house, he came back with two bottles of beer-one in each hand. After flopping into his seat with a sigh, he popped open his drink and took a hearty sip; setting the other one down on the "table".

The raptor trainer was tuning out Steven's blabbing so much, he almost didn't hear him when he said, "Hey, thanks man!"

Owen turned just in time to see the technician reaching over to grab the extra beer, to which he quickly pulled the bottle back out of reach, "That's not for you."

Steven chuckled, "Aw, come on."

The trainer looked him dead in the eye and repeated much more seriously, "It's not for you."

Steve blinked in surprise, "O-okay then..." He backed off, "Uh...see you tomorrow, then?"

Owen nodded-not even looking, "Tomorrow."

The technician waved, "Okay...good bye?"

The trainer shooed him away, "Good. Night. Mr. Steve."

The new guy finally took the hint and left. Only when he was fully gone did Owen check his watch again. Ten after seven. Dammit. Leave it to Steve to scare off the person he was actually HOPING would show up.

His friend didn't always appear-Owen didn't expect him to. But anytime the guy DID decide to drop by, a few things remained constant:

-Owen had to be alone

-He only appeared when Owen wasn't looking

-And nine times out of ten, he showed up at 7pm

There was something about that time of day his friend liked the best, and for Owen, it actually worked out, as that was the only real chance he had any free time to begin with. Sure, the guy wasn't totally punctual; sometimes he came earlier-sometimes later...but more often than not, it was always seven...and if he didn't appear by at least eight, chances were he wasn't coming at all.

The raptor trainer hoped he wasn't putting any pressure on him...it wasn't very nice to demand the man's presence...but was it so wrong to be just a little anxious? Especially when he was the only decent company on the island.

Owen checked his watch once more-nearly seven thirty. He made a show of leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes; breathing in the evening air. He was nearly fully relaxed and content to enjoy the quiet when...

 _POP! Pssssh..._

The trainer didn't open his eyes yet, but a smile escaped him, "You're late."

An older voice answered him, "Sorry. I was stuck in traffic." There came a pause as someone took a sip, then added in, "Not bad...could use a kick, though."

Owen half groaned, "You, sir, are a very picky poltergeist."

His visitor responded, "And YOU, sir, need to find better taste in drinks."

Owen chuckled and dared to crack open one eye, "Hey, Robert."

He finally fully glanced at his guest. A gentleman just a few years older than him lounged in the accompanying chair; his half-upturned fedora hat covering his eyes. As usual, he wore his standard safari attire of a T-shirt, supply vest, khaki shorts and hiking boots. Did they not have malls where he came from? Or did he just REALLY like that outfit? Either way, this was how their conversations usually started.

One would assume they'd be able to discover the mysteries of the universe when conversing with a spirit that stubbornly wouldn't move on. In reality, it was more like just sitting around the water cooler, shooting the breeze. Owen learned early on that apparently, there were certain rules even ghosts had to follow. Not telling mortals about what Heaven was like was one of them. That didn't stop him from trying to find out, however.

"Can ghosts even get drunk?" the raptor trainer asked.

"No, unfortunately", Muldoon inspected his drink, "Doesn't affect the taste, though."

"Yeah, well, it affects my wallet. Don't forget, I still have to pay money as long as my heart's still beating. I don't get a Ghostbuster discount", Owen rolled his eyes, before yawning and stretching, "Should I be excited or sad that the only friends I got on this island are a bunch of raptors and a dead guy?"

The game warden put his hands behind his head as he laid back, "You said when you took this job, you wanted something different. Be careful what you wish for."

The trainer never thought he'd get used to being haunted. But in a world where scientists could bring back extinct dinosaurs, nothing really surprised him anymore. From that point, it became the usual riga-ma-roll. They babbled on about anything and everything, from the raptors, to Muldoon's days in Africa, to coming up with new insults to use on Hoskins. Questions about the afterlife, however, were given vague answers. Occasionally, Robert would respond with a simple "ghost magic"...or point up at the sky and say something like, "the Boss says I can't tell you that." Such talks were interesting, to say the least, but Owen ate up every word; bemused at how this real life Indiana Jones was roaming the park and only he was in on the secret (at least he thought so. He had his suspicions a few other people might've started to put two and two together, but he never voiced it).

None the less, the raptor trainer had to remind himself he WAS conversing with a dead man...a guy who had died rather gruesomely, as he had eventually found out (and his confidence in his own job of choice suffered greatly after that discovery). It was easy for their talks to take a serious turn because of this, and tonight was no different. Especially when Robert insisted that Owen apologize to Steven-the boy was right to be overly cautious. Didn't want to have more accidents and create more ghosts.

The two fell into a companionable silence as they watched the sun set-the sky a warm and rich mix of pink and purple-the stars slowly coming out one by one. In that calm moment of listening to birds and crickets, the raptor trainer finally found the courage to give voice to something he was meaning to ask for a while, "Why are you here?"

Muldoon quirked a brow, and his companion continued, "I mean, you said you hang out with some of the other guys...do they ever swing by here?"

"Occasionally..." the game warden shrugged, "...mostly Hammond. He pops in on his grandkids once in a blue moon; unseen, mind you...but that's really about it."

"And yet you're here almost all the time..." Owen noted with some curiosity, "...why?"

Robert didn't answer, nor meet his eyes, to which the trainer continued, "It can't be just to scare the crap out of Dr. Wu."

This time, Muldoon cracked a devilish smirk, "I wouldn't know anything about that."

Owen wasn't fooled, "Yeah, well...I DO know that the last time I had to stop by his apartment, he had about twenty incense candles burning, and I swear, I thought I saw a Ouija board on the floor. The guy's nutty enough-don't make him even crazier." He folded his arms, "If you need to get your kicks out of whatever the ghost equivalent to cow tipping is, why don't you bug Hoskins? Now THAT'S a guy who deserves to have his head spin around and puke out pea soup."

The game warden chuckled at the imagery, but it was clear he was becoming uncomfortable by the way he wouldn't look at Owen. The raptor trainer then asked, in all seriousness, "Is Heaven really that boring that you have to hang around here?"

Muldoon's smile quickly faded, "...you know I can't tell you that."

Owen was beginning to wonder if his friend really WAS under orders, or was he making up all this mysterious stuff just to mess with him? He dared to scoff, "Yeah, well...does 'the Boss' approve of all the crap you pull around here?"

Now Robert was slightly agitated. He finally glanced up, "Do I need an overly complicated reason? Maybe it's because I like you...or at the very least, I respect you. Lord knows you need a friend-no pun intended."

"Yeah, well...I need a friend I can actually introduce to other people. I'm not saying I'm not grateful for you being my guardian angel or something, 'cause believe me, I am...but I've gotta' take care of the living. I don't know how much longer I can do this." Owen pointed at their respective drinks for emphasis, before throwing his hands in the air, "You could at least sound more grateful when I bring you stuff!"

There came a silence as the trainer folded his arms in a huff, while Muldoon's gaze fell to the ground, seemingly guilty. He was just about to say something...before Owen interrupted:

"Does your wife know you're runnin' around down here?" he muttered, "Is she okay with you scaring people and BS-ing to me every week?"

There was an uncomfortable pause, to which the game warden stared long and hard at Owen-his blue eyes gaining an offended edge, and the raptor trainer realized too late that he crossed a line. He ran his hands through his hair, "Sorry..."

He turned away so he didn't have to look at the ghost staring at him. He rubbed his eyes in frustration and repeated, "I'm sorry...I don't know what you want from me. You want a friend? Is that it?"

When he didn't get an answer, Owen turned around. Muldoon was gone-his drink not even finished. The trainer kicked himself and groaned, "Shit..."

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For the next two straight weeks, Robert didn't appear.

Maybe the guy finally moved on. Or maybe he was just punishing Owen for getting cross with him. Either way, the raptor trainer couldn't help but miss him, and he blamed himself for royally screwing up the unique friendship he had going. He never stopped to think that perhaps the guy just needed a different sort of friend too. The ex-Navy man basically told a ghost to get a life-no pun intended. He later DID apologize to Steve-hoping maybe that would convince the game warden to come back, but no such luck. And for a while, he tried to convince himself that maybe it was for the best; that maybe he didn't need him anymore. He had other stuff to worry about besides an undead spirit's personal problems. But when he fed Blue an extra rat treat one day, she cocked her head at him quizzically. Even the raptor could tell he wasn't himself.

Lesson learned...when you find out your friend's wife got mauled by a lion, and said friend blames himself for her dying, DON'T ever blatantly mention her in an argument.

If this odd friendship really WAS over, he hoped he could speak to the game warden one last time, at least so they could go out on a better note.

Going into week three of no shows, Owen broke down and splurged on a nice bottle of champagne. As soon as he got off work, he set up the chairs and table as usual-the bottle and two glasses ready and waiting. Plopping down, he settled in and watched the sun drop on the horizon-checking his watch every ten minutes.

6:30...6:50...7:10...7:30...7:45...

By five to eight, he breathed a heavy sigh...so much for that. He tucked in his legs and rested his chin on his knees; closing his eyes and whispering aloud, "If you can hear me...I understand if you don't wanna' see me again...just know that I'm really sorry..."

"...ahem?"

Owen jumped up; startled at the sound of someone clearing their throat. He swiveled around in his seat, then stood completely when he found Muldoon standing just a few feet behind him...

...and right next to him; his hand intertwined with hers, was a woman no older than him. She wore a simple, yellow sun dress-her skin a rich, dark brown; no doubt a native of the African savanna. Her dark hair was pulled back in a single braid-her fedora hat no different than his; save for the wild flowers decorating it.

The raptor trainer could only blink for a long moment at how she could pull off "rough and tumble" and "elegancy" at the same time...or how Muldoon couldn't stop his boyish smirk as he glanced at her-a love struck expression Owen never imagined he'd see on the stoic game warden. But eventually, one word came to him, "Uh...hi?"

"Hello", she smiled with every part of her face.

Owen became suddenly aware of how dirty and grimy he must have looked. He absently brushed himself off; speaking to the warden, "Um...if I knew you were bringing company, I would've cleaned up a bit first."

The lady chuckled and winked at her husband, "I like him." She then noticed the champagne bottle and sighed, "I hope you haven't been drinking this poor man out of his life savings." When Muldoon didn't say anything, she folded her arms and tapped her foot-her tone like one a mother would use on their child, "Robert..."

He pulled his hat down a little farther to hide his blushing. Owen raised a brow, "So...I take it she's 'the Boss'?"

The lady smirked, "Ooh, and he's smart too." She then turned to Muldoon, "We never did get around to having kids...can I adopt this one?"

The game warden shot her a horrified glance, "Oh, bloody hell no!"

She just giggled and gave him a peck on the cheek. That shut him up. She then walked over and shook the raptor trainer's hand, "Nice to finally meet you."

"Same here", the young man felt like he was twelve again, "Uh...I'm Owen."

"Imani", she introduced herself, "Robert's told me all about you."

"Good stuff, I hope..." Owen went red in the face, "...uh, ma'am."

"Don't mind him. He can be so stubborn sometimes, I swear..." the lady pretended to whisper, then motioned for her husband to come over. As soon as he slunk up to her, she spoke in a rather disciplinary tone, "Now, what do we say?"

The game warden sighed...but then guiltily removed his hat, "...I'm sorry. It wasn't fair of me to take advantage of you like that."

Owen nodded, "Well...I'm sorry too...what I said to you was a pretty dick move."

While the two apologized, Imani took a seat; smiling, "He takes after you a bit, Robert."

Both Owen and Muldoon rolled their eyes at the same time, "Thanks..."

A second after that, they both chuckled and shook hands. Just like that, the argument was over. It also helped that the lady chose that moment to pop the champagne bottle and toss them a playful wink, "Well? I can't drink this all myself."

The next day, Owen found a fifty dollar bill on the ground. He had a hunch who led him towards it.

But that was tomorrow. Tonight, they all gathered around and had a merry time. Eventually, Robert and his wife ended up sharing the beach chair-seemingly falling asleep cuddled up. For once, it was Owen who pulled a disappearing act and left them alone once midnight rolled around. He wondered if ghosts even needed to sleep, but he dared not ruin the pleasant evening.

An evening of wine and spirits...and good friends.

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 **So back when the first "Jurassic World" movie came out, a friend and I swapped many RP's and other stories back and forth. Now that "Fallen Kingdom" has come out, I decided it was time to finally dust off these old files that've been sitting on my hard drive and post some of these drabbles. You could sort of see this as a companion piece to my other stories, "The Stuff of Nightmares", and "Spirited Advice."**

 **As for who Imani is, she's an original character created by my friend, who goes by "cheetahtrout" on deviantArt, and "chaosorganizer" on Tumblr. She also has a separate art blog on Tumblr also called "cheetahtrout". Her headcannon is that Muldoon used to be married,** **and became an alcoholic with such an unromantic view on animals because his significant other was mauled by a tsavo lion (the one specific lion breed known to actually kill humans deliberately, and it lives around Nairobi, where Muldoon is supposed to originate from. I loved that idea and decided to include her in this.**


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